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by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:54:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And even though Tatsuya himself is so slippery and enigmatic (and he carries weights whose presence alone he seems hell-bent on hiding) and would be uncomfortable with Wei telling him any of this it makes no difference as to how he feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> himuliu day 2k15 (pt 1)

The first time Wei had met him, he’d found Tatsuya off-putting—he couldn’t quite pin down why, it might have been because he was so beautiful or because he’d seemed to be scheming something or because of how damn explosive a basketball player he was or some combination of all of those reasons. But regardless, that sort of feeling falls away like half-melted ice from the gutter once he gets to know him, once Tatsuya puts him (perhaps deceptively) at ease. And the realization is a little belated but it still happens, almost a year after they’ve started dating when they’re stuck inside on yet another snow day—that somehow lying in twin-size bed that neither one of them fits on top of alone with the radiator half-broken it feels like home.

It’s not that it feels more like home than actually being with his parents and brothers in their too-cramped apartment back in his hometown, or eating his grandma’s cooking, or being in a country where he doesn’t have to check the coin denominations carefully because they all still feel so foreign and where he isn’t so conspicuously foreign himself—but being with Tatsuya like this gives him the same feeling of being centered, of fitting and knowing exactly how he fits. And even though Tatsuya himself is so slippery and enigmatic (and he carries weights whose presence alone he seems hell-bent on hiding) and would be uncomfortable with Wei telling him any of this it makes no difference as to how he feels. And maybe it’s because he shouldn’t put all of his eggs in this particular basket that he feels this way in the first place—but this is not the time for self-analysis.

The snow is coming down in spinning streaks, miniature tornadoes. The shriek of the wind outside is in some sort of sick harmony with the radiator, but it’s a sound conducive enough to sleep, especially when he’s trapped in the warm space between Tatsuya’s body and the wall.

* * *

Tatsuya takes him to California the third summer they’re in college; the first thing he notices is that it’s fucking hot there. Tatsuya’s house is air-conditioned, controlled to poorly mimic the chill of early-spring Akita, but it’s still cold enough for Wei to shiver. But despite the relative discomfort (even after Tatsuya turns up the thermostat) and despite the awkwardness of trying to present himself properly to Tatsuya’s parents (who are just as hard to read as Tatsuya is) he finds himself relaxing into the atmosphere. Maybe it’s because Tatsuya volunteers them to cook dinner together and it’s just like it is in their apartment only with more space and better cookware.

But Wei has no reason to believe it’s not just Tatsuya himself—it’s the same when Tatsuya takes him out for a drive on the highway, maneuvering the car just as smoothly as he maneuvers his body around a basketball court, weaving quickly and gracefully in and out of the stagnant flow of traffic to get them wherever he’s taking them. And even though the sights and sounds are new, the feeling is warm and steady. Tatsuya lets him take his hand on the beach as they wade through the surf with jeans rolled up (but they still end up wet when Wei stumbles in the sand and falls in and the water is fucking freezing but Tatsuya’s laughing at him so Wei splashes him more than a few times). His lips taste of salt even hours later.

And when they fly back to Tokyo at the end of the week, they’re still home.

* * *

He’s a little bit more apprehensive about taking Tatsuya back to his parents’ place in a city he hasn’t lived in full-time for going-on-eight years. It’s got nothing to do with the prospect of his parents meeting Tatsuya; they’ve spoken on the phone before and Tatsuya’s joined some of Wei’s video chats; even the kids (who are now in fucking high school when Wei can barely come to terms with them being taller than his waist) know him by now and they all genuinely like him (although he is Tatsuya and it’s kind of hard not to). But it’s a forced collision of the people Wei feels the most at home with, the place that knows him and the place he keeps digging his roots into even though he knows he’s going to have to transplant himself soon enough with the person he has grown to love and trust and depend on.

Tatsuya doesn’t seem particularly nervous. He’s easily relaxed around Wei’s parents and all of Wei’s little brothers vie for who gets to be attached to his side. It would be kind of cute if they weren’t such damn brats about it, and if Wei didn’t feel like he’s forced into the same arena to compete for his own timeslot.

“Jealous?” Tatsuya says, smiling up at him in that sweetly conniving way he does.

Wei huffs. “I’m not jealous of kids.”

“That so?”

Wei doesn’t say anything; he pulls Tatsuya into his lap and lets him settle into the position.

“They’re not going to stop liking you if you don’t spend all vacation with them,” says Wei.

“I know.”

Tatsuya’s fidgeting, tapping his fingertips against his knee. So he is nervous—possibly about that, possibly about something else. He clenches his fist, trying to stifle his insecurity—Wei kisses the back of his neck. He’s no good at this reassurance stuff, especially when it’s something so self-evident to him that he doesn’t have to explain it to himself at all. Home is home; home is Tatsuya and his parents and his brothers, and they all fit like this because they do. Tatsuya is fine as he is; he’s not too imposing or too foreign or anything else he might think himself.

He slides his palm under Tatsuya’s, locking their fingers together.

“You’re more than fine. If the brats say otherwise, I’ll kick their asses.”

And at this, Tatsuya laughs. The vibrations are pleasant against Wei’s chest—there’s nothing more like home.


End file.
